


...and...and...and...

by Anonymous



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: And Dream but he's an asshole in this, Angst, F/M, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not sure if lacking a will to live is, I'm not sure what else I should tag, It's anon for a reason, It's for the fic, Not Happy, Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Probably will feature most of the SMP at some point, Rape/Non-con Elements, SORRY YALL, Self-Insert, Self-Sacrifice, Sexual Coercion, Sorry Dream, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhappy Ending, You saw the archive warnings, also swearing, and TommyInnit, but idk, but ill tag it anyway, but im not sure yet, but it has Technoblade, but not many, but there's worse than that, don't want to tag the characters, i hate myself for writing this, i think, i wanna warn yall but im shit at tags, i'll stop now, if you think of anything comment it please, looking like maybe, not fun, oh boy, someone will prob die, sorryyyyy, there are some okay parts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: I don’t want them to suffer. I don’t want the people who’ve cared about me since I first wandered into a war already long in progress to hurt any more than they have to. I don’t want them to search in hopes of finding me alive when I know there will only be disappointment in the end.But if I do survive, even though I don’t want to...I don’t want him to find me.~~~Just a real messed up fic (see tags) with a semi-self-insert OC (sorryyyyyy) and a lot of trauma. 0/10 would not wish upon my worst enemy. Which judging by this fic may be myself.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 11
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First off, read the tags y'all. I may update them further but in general they should cover most of the content. This is not lighthearted. I don't even know if it ends well. Some elements (heck, most elements) may be triggering. Stay safe and don't read if you don't like what you see in the tags.
> 
> Well. This is anon for reasons that will soon become apparent. Sorry for terrible oc/semi-self insert, I want to make use of existing characters and really enjoy the fandom but given that the person I can most easily project on is uncomfortable with works like these (and I don't blame him) I figured this was the best solution. Is this gonna be six different kind of fucked up? Yeah. Why? I don't know. Best guess is its a semi-manifestation of repressed semi-trauma (I'm good y'all, it wasn't anything near what's depicted here I suspect my brain decided to inflate it for fic purposes so that...idk, reactions are justified?) Anyways. Yeah. Fr I'm as fine as I can be and the interaction that makes my brain come up with this shit was minor, very, very, minor it just had bad hurt/comfort/self insert level consequences. Is this oversharing? Yeah I think this is oversharing. Antis knock yourselves out, you can't say anything I'm not already thinking.
> 
> I am sort of extrapolating the reactions from my personal experiences, and thus they probably aren't very accurate. Sorry for that. Also I'm terrible at writing dialogue (especially in character) but that ends up being 90% of this fic so. You have been warned.
> 
> Enjoy doesn't seem like the right word.

The tundra is so, so cold.

I don’t care about dying, not anymore. How could I? I don’t care about the numbness in my fingers, I don’t care about the fact my feet are bricks in my shoes. I don’t care about the way the blanket pulled around me is becoming coated with ice, or the way the wind makes my eyes water and freezes my tears, or the way I can't move my fingers from their clawed grip on the edge of my blanket. I'm beyond caring about any of that.

I only care about being found, and not being found.

I don’t want them to suffer. I don’t want the people who’ve cared about me since I first wandered into a war already long in progress to hurt any more than they have to. I don’t want them to search in hopes of finding me alive when I know there will only be disappointment in the end.

But if I do survive, even though I don’t want to...I don’t want him to find me.

I can’t feel myself, but I can still feel him. Still taste him. Still picture his face as he pushes me into the wall and takes what he wants even though I mumble no, I don’t want this, stop, stop please.

The only place out of his reach, the only place where someone would still have a chance at defying him, is here, in the tundra, where I know there’s an isolated cabin and an isolated man.

If I die it will be on Technoblade’s doorstep. If I live it will be on Technoblade’s charity.

I wish I had the nerve to curl up where they will never find me and fade. It would be so much easier.

And there it is.

The cabin.

It looks so warm, so inviting, so promising, and so very far away. When I finally fall, I don’t try to get up. I’m not carrying anything with me, but my thoughts are a burden enough. My mind supplies the weight on my shoulders.

He can’t miss me.

He’ll find me in the morning, I’m sure, solid as stone, blue and purple and gray. He might notice the bruises, the scratches, he might put together what happened. Hell, he _will_ put together what happened, he’s Technoblade.

I don’t think he’ll know who did it, though.

I wish the voices of my friends were enough to block out his. I wish the murmurs of sorrow I can already hear when Techno finds me, when he tells them, at my funeral that I hope they will all be peaceful for despite the ongoing battles, were enough to cover that of a man I’m sure will speak.

He won’t have to pretend to cry. They won’t see his face.

I saw his face.

It haunts me, now. It drifts in my field of vision. I wish I hadn't. I wish I’d only ever seen the mask, not the man behind it.

But he wanted me to look into his eyes and I couldn’t stop him.

There's so many things I couldn't stop.

I look away from the cabin and up to the stars. The clouds are clearing, finally; I laugh but my voice is hoarse. I don’t want to think of why. If I had waited just a little longer, maybe I wouldn’t be quite so frozen. Maybe I would have made it to the door and knocked and lived. But I couldn’t wait, he was coming back, and I don’t care anyways.

I don’t care.

The snow is so, so soft, and the sky is endless and shimmering and beautiful and all the voices fade, even his, and the visions disappear and I don’t care.

I don’t want to close my eyes, I want to keep looking at the sky and forget, but they flutter shut anyway.

I’m almost there, I’ve almost toppled off the cliff and into oblivion when I hear a soft whinny and another voice, a real voice.

You’re too late.

I can’t understand the words. My mind is fuzzy, warm. But strong arms lift me off the ground and hold me to a body that is radiating heat.

You’re too late.

I don’t know what happens next.

I don’t care.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a second bad chapter because I got bored. I'm not sure why you're still reading this.

Waking up alive was not expected. Really, I thought my best chance at waking ever again was as a ghost.

If I did I would want no memories at all. Ghostbur doesn’t know how lucky he is.

But I am awake and warm and whole--well, maybe not whole, maybe not ever--and inside. I recognize Techno’s room around me, and Techno himself asleep sitting against the wall beside me.

Tommy, also not expected, is there. And Tommy is awake.

It takes him a moment to notice I’m awake, he’s staring off into space--who knows how long I’ve been here, I doubt it’s been less than a day--but as soon as he does he shoves Techno over and jumps up with a cry.

Techno collides with the floor and yells in surprise.

And it’s too loud.

I can barely move but I still manage to pull my arms up, to curl my legs, to recoil. I know, consciously, I’m safe, but he was loud, too. And that didn’t end well for me.

Tommy pulls up short, noticing my distress, and looks to Techno, still waking up for direction. He looks helpless as I start to hyperventilate. I’m not sure if I'm reacting to them or memories or my reflexive cower. It’s probably all three.

I'm spiraling.

I hate it.

Techno doesn’t take long to assess the situation, shooting a quick glare at Tommy before speaking in a low, soothing tone.

“Leah. You’re safe. You’re in my house. I don’t know what happened. I want to help. I’m gonna move towards you now.”

He steps closer and I flinch further away, still gasping for air. I don’t want to. I wish I could just let him help, let him comfort me. But my mind reacts without logic and my body follows its directions.

He stops and begins talking in a surprisingly soft manner. Tommy seems to be uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

I don’t know how long we’re there but finally I calm and try to talk.

But the “Hey guys” that comes out is weak and scratchy and I remember again why it is and my chest tightens again.

I can feel his hands on me, feel them trailing over my skin, feel his teeth at my neck. I’m not frozen anymore, I’m scratching and kicking and thrashing and Techno has no choice but to hold me down and shout for Tommy to go and get--something. And Techno’s not there, it him holding me down, and I’m not fighting because everything feel heavy and he’s telling me just how much of a fucking tease I am and he’s not quite him anymore, his eyes are red and his fingers grow onto claws and--

Tommy returns with a potion and Techno splashes me with it and everything goes blissfully dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is filled with inaccuracies and blunders so...sorry. I promise these will get longer (not that that's a good thing). I'll update when I get feedback. Am I holding you hostage for comments/kudos? Yes, yes I am. Hear that? If you hate this fic, you can't comment or there will be more. Hehehehehe.
> 
> Or you can wait me out, I'll get bored eventually and post anyways.
> 
> Why am I like this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, didn't take me long to get bored (and I got feedback so I kept my promise). This chapter is definitely a bit longer (still not super long but ah well, I love my semi-dramatic endings), I think longer than the other two combined, and I think they'll be consistently more substantial from this point on.
> 
> I got a comment asking about POV, short answer is this is first-person of an OC named Leah, and there will eventually be more background. I'm going for more of a "add to the character as the story progresses" type thing, ya know? See the comments of chapter two for the long answer.

When I wake up again things go a bit better.

Techno is awake too, for starters. Immediately, keeping his distance, he talks.

“You...you okay?”

I’m worried what’ll happen if I speak so I just nod.

I’m not. But I can pretend.

“Can I come closer?”

I didn’t think Technoblade would ever sound this...lost. I’m not sure if it’s a good idea but his voice is soft and he asks so I nod again.

I don’t react when he moves.

“You gonna talk?”

I shake my head no in response.

That wouldn't end well.

“Do ya...want something to write with?”

Yes. That sounds good.

He moves carefully to the bookshelves behind the bed and then hands me a quill and ink and a notebook. I flip it open to the first page, adjusting myself so I’m sitting more upright.

I ignore the lingering soreness.

 _Where’s Tommy?_ I write, and show it to him.

“Tommy’s downstairs.”

_Why is Tommy here?_

“Dream blew up Logsteadshire.”

At the sound of that name, I have to fight to appear passive. It’s a battle I’m surprised I win.

“Why did I find you on my lawn?”

_Long story._

“That’s a long notebook.” When he sees my face, though, he quickly speaks again. “You don’t need to tell me, though. Just...curious as to why I found you outside half frozen when you should be miles away.”

Didn’t he see the marks? Couldn’t the great Technoblade tell what happened? My skin is clean, I’m wearing clothes that aren’t mine; someone had to wash and dress me and I seriously doubt it was Tommy.

 _Can’t you tell?_ The words are unsteady on the page; my hand must be shaking. I hope he can. I hope he can put together the pieces. I hope I won’t have to spell it out, write it down, acknowledge what happened.

He looks out of his depth. Anarchy? No problem. Mass destruction? He’s got you covered. This, whatever this is?

Clearly he’s lacking in experience.

“I...don’t want to assume.”

_I think most of your assumptions would be pretty accurate._

He seems to be thinking, deciding. I know what between when his mood seems to shift. He nods, likely to the Voices, since it doesn’t really make sense to nod to me. He straightens, seems more solid, lets rage seep into his gaze. It’s a sight to behold; even though it’s not directed at me it’s intimidating.

“Who?”

I want to tell him, I do. I want to tell him and let Techno charge into the hidden house and make him pay. But I know I can’t, I know that a head-to-head with someone who may have infinite lives and holds almost infinite sway will end badly even for Technoblade.

I don’t bother writing. I just shake my head.

Techno seems to ponder this, for a second.

“Surely you’re not just gonna-”

I cut him off by reaching out and grabbing his wrist.

This gives him pause, and rightfully so. I almost regret the contact; the skin touching his feels like it’s burning.

I don’t know why.

But I tighten my grip and add another sentence.

_I don’t need you to get hurt for me._

Techno’s brow furrows, bushy eyebrows pulling together.

“Did...did Dream do this?”

Damnit. Of course he would figure out it was him, who else would I be scared of Technoblade fighting?

I can already feel that tightness in my chest building. I try to stay calm, try to act like he’s wrong, like he guessed wrong, but everything is closing in.

“Shit. Leah, breathe.”

Doesn't he know I’m trying?

“Deep breaths.”

I can’t. I can’t stop the little gasps as my lungs are crushed in by themselves, as my throat closes and the air itself conspires against me and thins.

“Leah, you’re here. He’s not gonna find you. You’re here and Tommy and I will keep you hidden. Deep breaths. Deep breath in.”

I suck greedily at the air.

“Deep breath out.”

And out it goes again.

“Deep breath in.” Pause. “Deep breath out.” Repeat.

Calm.

Calm _er_.

As my breath evens, the tears arrive.

Why? Why me, why now? Why him?

Why couldn’t I just stop?

Why didn’t I try harder to get away? To fight back? Why didn’t I notice him slipping a potion of weakness into the soup? Why didn’t I notice the way he looked at me, the way he didn’t eat, just waited?

Why can’t I get his voice out of my head?

“Techno-”

My voice is weak. I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep each time, don’t know how long it hasn't been used. Techno seems surprised that I’ve spoken.

“Techno, why can’t I stop?”

He seems to be thinking about what to say next, seems to be finding the right words, when we’re interrupted.

“Techno! Dream messaged and he’s on his way here now!”

Any sense of calm is gone. Techno springs into action; I’m not sure if his feet touch the rungs of the ladder on his way down. I can’t breathe again, can’t do anything but gasp as my vision goes spotty and the voice in my head redoubles its efforts.

_If you run away, you die or I’ll find you. Do you really think that you can hide from me? Your only option is to stay, Leah._

I don’t even hear Tommy come upstairs. I’m not fully conscious of his presence until his hand is on my arm and he’s talking but I don't hear because I yell at him.

“Get away from me! Don’t--” a sob-- “don’t touch me!”

He pulls his hand back and Techno is yelling from downstairs and there is no calm, not here.

“Geeze, okay, L, I need you to come downstairs. I don’t know what happened with you and Dream--” I flinch, I can't stop it-- “but there’s a hiding space downstairs and Techno’s got invis pots so even if you won’t let me touch you, can you at least come down?”

I reach out.

Tommy, surprisingly gentle, pulls me out of the bed and helps me over to the ladder despite the shaking in my legs. When we reach the main room, he guides me over to a box. Techno is rushing through the house, looking for anything that would indicate more than one inhabitant.

Tommy hands me a couple potions and opens the box’s lid. The space would comfortably fit one person, room to spare.

But he can’t see Tommy either.

We're going to have to make it work.

“You wanna get in first or shall I?”

“You...you first.”

So Tommy climbs into the box, squeezing up against one of the sides, folding up his lanky limbs and compressing as much as possible. The box has blankets padding the bottom, but I’m sure I’ll be even more sore when I get out.

Better than facing him.

There’s just enough room for me to climb in next to Tommy. We’re making more contact than I would like, but there aren’t any alternatives. Not really. He stays pressed against the far side, no doubt remembering how I reacted to contact earlier.

“Can I squeeze your hand?

We are equally shocked at the words that slip out of my mouth.

“Sorry, it’s okay if you don’t want to, I don’t know what I was thinking, I just--”

“No! No, it’s ah- it’s fine.” He smiles weakly. “If it helps.”

Contact, willing, prolonged contact, burns as much as it soothes. “We’d better drink the potions soon.”

“Yeah, probably. Bottoms up.”

I can’t see him anymore, but I can still feel him. Still hear him breathing.

It’s not entirely bad. It’s comforting, even though it’s disorienting.

Techno, now in the same room as the box, speaks.

“He’s here.”

And Tommy must have reached up because the lid is closing oh-so-gently and the world is dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Much. Dialogue.
> 
> Sorry about any ooc-ness you are noticing, I try to keep individuals in character but also ~fanfiction~ and ~bad at writing consistent characters~.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnd another one. As of right now I've got ten or so chapter written (and counting) and nothing better to do with my time so...this'll be updated every once and a while without apparent rhyme or reason.
> 
> Spoiler alert: this doesn't get better. Writing-wise or event-wise.
> 
> Enjoy the happy moments while you can.

I don’t know how long I can sit here in the dark.

It doesn't take long for the air to become heavy and the walls to feel entirely too close. 

“Ya need some help there? The zombies are really rude. I should probably put up some torches, but nah.”

When I hear his voice, not in my head, but much more substantially, much more solidly, the tight walls and warm hand and heavy air feel more safe than restricting.

“I’m good.” The sounds of some poor zombie being hacked apart, the sounds of feet in snow and up the porch’s steps. “It’s actually my first time visiting, why don’t you show me around?”

He’s right there. 

“Sure, come on in, make yourself at home.”

“This is nice. You’ve got a pet enderman?”

I start squeezing Tommy’s hand.

To his credit, Techno is remarkably calm. 

“We’re roommates.”

They climb down the ladder.

“Just lookin’ around?”

“Oh! You have some villagers down here.”

“Yeah, I got a lot of villagers here. A lot of villagers.”

I can hear chests being opened, and then they climb back up.

“Well, um, there’s a bit of a problem. Two problems, really.”

“Yeah? What problems?”

There it is. My hand tightens further.

“Uh...Tommy left. And Leah’s gone.”

Tommy isn’t coming out of this without a bruise.  
“Who? Oh right Tommy yeah I got it he got exiled? That was pretty funny. Did they exile Leah too?”

“They exiled Tommy, yeah, but now he’s missing. L’Manberg thinks he’s dead--I know otherwise. And Leah just disappeared. No one’s sure where she went, and they’re starting to get worried. Have you seen them?” 

If I continue at this rate Tommy’s going to have a broken hand.

“I’ve not seen either of them.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah I’m, I’m pretty confident.”

“Mind if I look around?”

“Nah, you can look around.”

Back down the ladder they go. Techno’s giving a tour, sort of, in his monotone manner.

And up the ladder, all the way upstairs.

And back to the main floor, to just in front of the box.

“I was able to find a forest I think Tommy chopped down, but that’s it for him. Leah’s trail was a bit more substantial, some scraps of cloth, some footprints. Looked like it was going in this direction.”

“She might have passed by while I was out or somethin’.”

“Might have.” A pause. “If you do see her, at least give her this. Everyone’s worried about her, they all pitched in.”

“Will do.”

“Well, uh, I’d better be going, but let me know if you catch wind of them, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.”

“Nice to see you.”

“See you later.”

The door opens and closes. Boots crunch away. There’s a hiss and an explosion and Technoblade sighs but he sounds mostly relieved.

I’m relieved too.

The lid lifts and I spring from the box, nearly knocking Techno over in my invisible state, nearly knocking myself over.

“Woah, I get it’s cramped, but some warning would be nice.”

I stop mid-stretch when I see what’s been left on the window sill. A card, and--

My necklace.

They can’t see my face. Not until the potion wears off. Tommy’s standing judging by the noises, Techno’s getting us milk, and I’m panicking, again.

Why do I have to keep panicking? Why can't I just react to one thing gracefully, calmly, with logical thought?

“Where’re ya at? I’ve got milk but I can’t see--”

Surely he’s used to the gasping for air by now? Setting the glasses down next to the necklace he can’t know I’m staring at, he moves forward.

Always ready to act.

He can’t see me though. Doesn’t know where to look. So I go to him.

He’s so warm.

I want to pull away but I make myself stay. It’s comforting, being here, wrapped in a hug. I’ve never really seen Techno hug anyone before, I realize. I’m surprised he isn’t moving away.

“He’s gone, Leah. He’s gone and you hid and you’re safe. I won’t let him hurt you.”

I nod. I know. I know Techno won’t but the necklace--

I never let anyone see it. Techno wouldn’t know that he had taken it from me, not bought it for me with help from everyone else. It was my secret, my reminder of home, that thin chain stronger than ropes. Unusual, a netherite necklace. Not really what someone would use netherite on. But it was a gift, from people I trusted, from who I was before I was Leah, the little sister of no less than three separate countries (and by now, probably more, the dividing lines change so fast). Everyone here comes from something worse.

I didn’t have to let them know mine.

So the necklace stayed hidden, worn whenever my clothes would cover it, stashed away whenever it wouldn’t be enough. My reminder, my link.

I was wearing it when it happened. He didn’t know it’s full meaning, couldn’t know, but he could certainly guess from my reaction when he asked about it in hushed tones.

“What’s this?”

I couldn’t stop him from pinning me to the couch; how could I stop him from taking it? Stop myself from flinching and trying to grab it back?

He wrapped it around my wrists alongside his fingers and when he was done he put it around his own neck.

And now here it is.

He has to know I’m here.

“He knows, Techno, he knows I’m here, he’s gonna find me, don’t let him find me, please don’t let him find me-”

“I won’t Leah. I won’t let him.” He seems to hesitate but then speaks again. “I’ve...I've got somewhere no one else knows about, somewhere nearby, but well hidden. You want to go have a look?”

I nod and he can’t see my face but he can feel my head move against his shoulder.

“Okay. Can you drink the milk first? That’ll make things a lot easier.”

I don’t look when he reaches for the glass but I take it from him and drink. Tommy must drink too because he’s standing next to me, very much there, very much uncertain.

“What--what did Dream do?”

Tommy still hasn’t figured it out.

Techno glares at him and he recoils. I’ve been on the receiving end of looks like that before, I don’t blame him. But Tommy doesn’t deserve it, and he has to find out eventually. So I pull back from the hug and look Techno in the eye.

“I’m gonna go outside for a bit. Tell him. He deserves to know. He has to deal with me too.”

Before he can react, I escape out into the night.

The stars are still beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I straight up lift 90% of the dialogue from Techno's stream? Yes, yes I did. Whoopsie.
> 
> Hope y'all are...enjoying(?) this absolute mess. Feedback is appreciated, lets me know how I can make it less terrible.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good luck.

I can still hear them, from the porch. Not specific words, but the murmur and tone.

I can tell when Tommy asks again.

I can tell when Techno responds.

I can tell when Tommy reacts. I can hear his concern, his fear, his uncertainty. 

But not his words.

Everything would be easier if I’d just been left there in the snow. Techno wouldn’t risk his life to lie about where I was, people wouldn’t have to know, wouldn’t have to blame themselves, wouldn’t have to wonder. His actions would have consequences.

And I wouldn’t have to hear his voice.

I don’t know if Techno’s voices are anything like this, this low commentary that fills every empty moment, that whispers the only praises I never want to hear and screams that they don’t actually care that this happened, they just want one more reason not to like him and if they were anybody else I would have been left to die. The voice tells me that if I were to disappear their lives would be easier. Everyone would be happier.

I tell myself I don’t believe anything he says but the repetition is wearing me down.

And there are some valid points.

The door opens behind me, and light spills out across the snow. I can see my outline, my shadow.

I look small, even stretched and distorted as the silhouette is.

It’s Techno. Tommy stands behind him, face white. He doesn’t meet my eyes.

_He wishes you'd kept your problems out of his life._

_He's embarrassed to know just how big a whore you are._

_He doesn't want you here._

_Just come back and they'll be happier._

I push the voice down but the thoughts still cut.

When I realize Technoblade said something I tear my eyes away from Tommy.

“What?”

“Are you ready to go check out the...other location?”

“Yeah, just, real quick--”

I don’t want to do this but I need to make sure I’m not hurting Tommy any more than necessary. That's the last thing I want.

“Tommy?”

He looks up. He’s pale, paler than usual.

“You good? You...you have any questions?”

“Uh. Loads, but I’m not...gonna ask them.” He's treating me like I'll break.

I very well might.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay then.” One more thing. “Techno, could I take the notebook? And the...the card they left me?”

“Yeah. Sure. You don’t want the necklace?”

“No.” Maybe I’d explain later. “Could you keep it safe though?”

“I don’t see why not.”

I nod and slip past him into the house. I don’t need to look as I grab the card, don’t want to. The image of it and the necklace sitting on the sill is burned into my brain already. I don’t want to look.

Up the ladder on shaking legs and I’ve got the notebook and quill and ink.

Back down again and with a glance and another nod we start walking.

When we stop at a cliff face not far from the house, I’m a little confused. What could be here? But Techno pulls out a button and I understand.

The sheer size of the place still shocks me.

The cliffside slides away into the ground when he pushes it, revealing a shadowy cavern and walls lined with skulls. Wither skulls. I don’t know what he was planning to do with so many but--

Actually I think I do.

“L’Manberg?”

He nods.

“This wasn’t built for sleeping, but Dream doesn't know about it.” He pulls out a pickaxe. “If you want we can add a room?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure I wanna sleep in the same space as all those skulls.”

“Fair enough.”

Techno walks over to one of the walls and begins chipping away, making fast work of it with his overpowered pick. Tommy just stands there and looks at everything except for me.

“Tommy, if you have anything to say, go for it. Yeah, it fucking sucks," he laughs at this, a half-laugh as though to say that's an understatement, "but right now I don’t want to lose a friendship and this--” I gesture in his general direction-- “isn’t working. I made the decision for you to know, and I’ve gotta deal with the consequences, but I don’t want you...wondering.”

He seems wary of what I say. Tiptoeing. I doubt the avoidance was a conscious choice, doubt he registered it at all.

“Erm.” He rubs his neck. “I suppose I do have one thing to ask.”

“Fire away.”

“Can I help you kill ‘im?” His eyes are angry, but there’s a spark there, a playful spark. Good.

“We’ll see.” I smile and Tommy grins back and he is quiet in my head.

~~~

The room Techno constructs is small, tucked away, but still big enough to move around in even with the cot and chest he adds.

Not that I have much to put in the chest.

“You want any...books? Entertainment? Supplies?”

“Books sound excellent.” I don’t want to be here alone with my thoughts. “But, uh, for now at least, until I go to sleep...can I stay in the house with you guys? I don’t really want to sit here awake and alone for long, ya feel me?”

“Sure. Let’s head back. You can bring the books when you come back to sleep.”

On the way back things go...wrong.

It starts innocently enough. Tommy scoops up some snow and in perhaps one of the worst decisions of his life chooses to throw his snowball at Techno.

Techno, of course, retaliates.

It doesn’t take long for Tommy to be running, somewhere between laughing and screaming, from Technoblade. Techno’s fast, but Tommy is somehow faster. Some strategically thrown snowballs give Techno just the edge he needs to catch up and the pair tumble to the ground in a flurry of snow and ice and they’re both laughing and I’m grinning and I don’t notice he’s there until it’s too late.

But there’s a hand over my mouth and an arm around my waist and I can’t think, I can’t breathe, I can’t scream or kick or bite just freeze.

“I’ve missed you.”

His voice may be poison in and of itself but the potion on his glove is poison in a much more literal sense and the bitter scent makes me want to retch but now it’s not just my brain’s fault I can’t move. We’re halfway to the portal before Techno and Tommy notice what’s wrong. Techno sees first, jumping up and running and he throws a pearl but it falls short, too short, and we’re at the portal and it’s too late.

“I’ll be coming back for Tommy!”

The world is purple and then red and then black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry y'all. This was gonna go in a different direction but the opportunity for further suffering presented itself and I have very little self control.
> 
> For real I was just gonna have another ~flashback~ but nah this gives me more room to be a terrible person (why can't I just write nice things).


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey, new chapter time! I may or may not have written like five chapters and then abandoned that project and decided to take this in a different direction because why not, so uh...have fun with this thousand words I wrote in like a half hour and very briefly edited. Also lotsss of language in this, maybe it's excessive but I feel like it makes sense. You'll see.

I wake up next to him.

He looks like he’s asleep. I know he’s not.

I can’t be that lucky.

As I suspect, just a little movement, just the slightest pulling away and his hand tightens on my wrist and his eyes open.

He’s not wearing his mask.

He looks normal, when it’s off. People think that he’s deformed, or injured, or just plain ugly. He is none of those things. He’s normal, perhaps even handsome.

That doesn’t stop him from haunting my nightmares. That doesn’t stop me from wanting nothing more than to get up and run.

I don’t. Not yet.

The room around me is familiar, too. I’ve only been here once before but I know it's every detail. I could never forget it, his bedroom.

The sheets burn almost as much as his hands.

“Glad that you’re awake.”

No point in speaking. I don’t want to hear myself.

I suspect my voice is gone anyway.

He pulls me in closer, wraps me in his arms. Somehow, I am tense and limp at the same time; ready to spring away at a moment's notice and unable to move at all.

I don’t know if drugs have anything to do with it.

We lay there for a long time. Thirty two minutes. I stare at the clock visible just over his shoulder, doing my best to ignore the man before me.

To ignore his arms on my bare skin.

To ignore his breath against the side of my face.

It’s funny. This is the longest his voice has been quiet in my head.

Eventually, he moves. Sits up, stretches.

“You gonna lie there all day?”

I didn’t think I had a choice.

I still don’t think I do.

So I don’t respond, don’t move, just keep watching the clock tick out the minutes.

I wonder if they’re looking for me. I hope they are.

I doubt it.

“Hey, Leah.” He lies back down beside me, reaches out to stroke my face. So gentle.

I can’t help it. My eyes flicker to him and stay on his.

They’re so vivid. Deep green with flecks of gold. So beautiful.

I hate them. They hurt to look at.

I can’t look away.

“I know I hurt you. I’m sorry. I...I wasn’t thinking. I screwed things up.”

I give a little snort of laughter and look away again.

He looks a bit surprised at that, but continues.

“I just want to take care of you. Can you at least tell me you see that? Just...give me a second chance.”

I have found my voice.

“If you think--” I sit up, holding the sheets to my chest-- “that what you did was in any way forgivable then you have another thing coming. If you think, for one second, that I could forgive you for that, then you are dumber than I thought. You’re right, you messed up. You showed me what you are. I’m almost glad for that." A dam has broken. I can't stop the words; they spill out. Everything I've been thinking. Here it comes.

“Don’t think I’m gonna come _running into your arms_ because you say you’re fucking _sorry_.

“You fucked up. Big time. What you did can’t be undone. No matter how fucking sorry you are, you won’t be able to get your voice out of my head, or your fingers from my skin, or the _memories_ out of my _fucking mind_.

“ _Fuck_ you and your sorry. Let me _the fuck_ go, so I can go back to trying to act like you don’t exist. _Maybe_ I won’t come back with a fucking _army_ to rip you to pieces.” I don’t know where this confidence is coming from, but it feels good. He’s the one looking almost scared now, a little stunned. I don’t know how this will end, badly probably, but it may be my only chance to say it and there’s a rush in my bloodstream and it feels so good to shout at him just this once.

“I never wanted you. Never liked you like that. Do you understand that? You were a friend at best and you just couldn’t stop yourself, oh no, so now you aren’t even that. At _best_ I walk away and you never see me again. At worst I hurt you as much as you hurt me and then hand you off to an incredibly protective Technoblade with what I’d imagine are a few grudges to do with as he _damn well chooses_.” My words have a life of their own.

“I hate you, now, you get that? I don’t think you can understand hate like I have for you. Every last cell of my body _loathes_ you, aches to rip you limb from limb, to watch you fucking _burn_.

“Get out of my way with your fucking _second chance_ and pray that you never find out what happens when I give my brain what it wants.

“ _Let me the fuck go, Dream, before you regret it_.”

That’s it. I’m out of steam.

I’m catching my breath, he’s processing. He looks almost surprised, looks almost like he didn’t know exactly what he did.

I don’t buy that.

He sits up, too. He’s the taller one again, a wall of lean muscle. I refuse to look away, refuse to look intimidated.

“I…” he _sounds_ lost, too. It would be pitiful if he deserved any pity.

He doesn’t.

“I just want to help you. I just want to make you feel...like a queen. Just...take care of you.”

He’s getting out of the bed now, turning away, moving towards the door.

“If you want to do that you should let me leave.”

“I can’t do that, Leah.”

Shit.

He’s at the door already. If I jump up, if I run for it, can I make it? Can I get out?

I have to try.

The moment I move, he moves too. Faster than I thought he could, he’s stepped out the door. By the time I reach it, it’s closed. I hear a key in the lock, the thud of a deadbolt.

“I just want to keep you safe, Leah. I just want to take care of you. Try to understand that.”

The door handle doesn’t work. There are no windows, everything in here will be locked.

His footsteps move down the hall, but his voice stays.

It’s picked up a new mantra.

I can’t do anything but sit there and scream as he walks away, leaves me there slumped against the door with nothing but his voice in my head.

_I just want to take care of you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe, possessive Dream. Is he really what he says he is? Is he being manipulative? What will happen next? (Sorry that's cheezy beyond belief).
> 
> Anywho might as well remind you to leave a comment with corrections, notes, suggestions, what have you. I'm gonna be honest what with a tidal wave of school (yay, semester change) I kinda forgot about this fic (sorry to like the one person who cares about it(that one person is me)), and was reminded by a lovely comment on the last chapter. Those of you who don't write fics might not get how much any feedback whatsoever can mean to an author, or you might and I'm just underestimating you, my bad. I encourage you to leave comments on fics you enjoy (doesn't have to be this one, I get it, my writing is bad and the narrative structure is whack), it makes the writer's day so much better. That was a rant, I'll stop now. Sorry. Ignore me, have a lovely life.
> 
> (Why am I so bad at writing notes?? )


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update time!
> 
> I've got several chapters past this written at the moment, it's really just a matter of my motivation to proofread. Which is inconsistent at best.
> 
> For now, here you go.

It takes me a while to get back up.

What motivation do I have? I already know everything I could use will be locked away.

I check anyway. Sure enough, the chests are locked, the surfaces clear, even the paintings are secure.

The only thing I can move is the bedding.

I pull it all off and build a practical nest in the corner, a protective knot of sheets and blankets and pillows with me at the center.

All I look at now is the corner. Block out the rest of the room. Stop remembering the scratch of the carpet, the give of the bed, the grain of the ceiling boards I stared at for eternity after eternity after eternity.

I’m not sure whether I’m crying or not. Everything is numb, I couldn’t feel the roll of tears down my face if I tried.

I don’t know how or when but I fall asleep.

It’s dreamless, in more than one sense.

That much I am grateful for.

~~~

When I wake up he’s there again. I can’t see him, I’m still facing the corner, but I can hear his breathing.

He’s on the floor, too, off somewhere to my right.

I smell food, the thick scent of stew. Beef. At least he had the sense not to give me mushroom soup.

I don’t particularly feel like spiraling.

It’s been almost a day since my last meal, and I am _hungry_.

Do I wait him out? Do I act like I’m still asleep, or failing that, not hungry?

My stomach betrays me with a low growl. I don’t know if it can do that, while you’re sleeping, but he doesn’t seem to think so.

“Hey.”

I don’t move. He sighs.

“I know you’re awake, lilypad.”

Fuck him and his nicknames.

Once they meant something to me. A fun game between friends. Lilypad was old, a classic. It stuck around. Leah lilypad, chosen for no reason but alliteration and the fact it sounded adorable.

Sounded past tense.

Now it just stings.

“And I know you’re hungry. I brought you food.”

I hear something move, slid along the carpet towards me.

A bowl or a tray or...something.

“I’ll just leave it here for you.”

And that easily, he leaves.

Once he’s gone I don’t hesitate. Anything he would accomplish by spiking it he could easily do without. And the stew smells heavenly, in a bread bowl and on a cloth.

No spoon. Makes sense. Doesn’t want to lose an eye, smart man.

Still, he’s left me with a bottle of water. Not that he has much choice.

I can use that.

Later.

But now I am full and as content as I will ever be here and a nap sounds so very good.

~~~

I sleep for a handful of hours, and when I wake up there is nothing to do.

Nothing except plan.

I don’t know what kind of game he’s playing here. He seems to be on the edge of genuine, almost sorry. If I didn’t know better, if I didn’t have the voice in my head to remind me of what he’d done, maybe I’d even trust him.

It’s dangerous.

But I do have that voice and every little whisper is a reminder that I have to get out.

I down the water and get an idea.

I’ll have to be careful to do this right. Mess it up once and he’ll catch on.

The bottle goes on the floor a fair distance from where I sit and the pillow goes over that. Gentle pressure, just enough to feel the crack.

When I pull the pillow away I could cry tears of joy.

Not one, not two, but three pieces perfect for what I need. Big enough to hold, sharp enough to slice. I’d say I’m lucky but if I were I wouldn’t be here in the first place.

First things first. All the small pieces go in front of the door. If he walks in without shoes--I don’t think he was wearing any when he brought the food--he’ll regret it.

Now I have to work fast. I don’t know when he’ll come back. I could have hours or minutes. One way or another, if it's the latter, I’m screwed. But I can’t waste any time.

The cloth that came with my lunch, a napkin really, is first. I cut it into strips and wrap them around the base of the best piece of glass. Now my blade has a handle.

Next is a sheet. From it I make dozens of pieces, and then set to work braiding them onto a long cord. When I test it, after I knot the ends, it has no give.

Perfect.

I glance at the clock. It’s been an hour. Nothing from him.

It’s getting close to dinner, though.

There’s another sheet. I might as well.

From that I fashion almost a dress. Dress? I cut arm and head holes in it and use an unwoven strip as a belt. It’s comforting, wearing something.

I crush the other two blades after making sure this one is sound and add the pieces to the pile in front of the door.

Then I wait.

~~~

I don’t have to wait long, it’s almost perfect, his timing. Strangely so if I’m honest. At the sound of a key in the lock I tighten my grip on the glass.

When he comes in he’s carrying something. I don’t see what. Dinner, I suspect. He jumps back almost out of reach when he steps on the glass, letting out a squeak of surprise and I hope pain.

Not on my watch.

I catch his neck in a loop of my sheet rope, pull it tight. His hands fly up to his neck, scratch at the cloth, but I don’t let go.

Now the knife, once, twice, a third time and I twist it to break the glass off into his stomach. His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open, gasping for air.

I run.

Out through the open door. I manage to avoid most of the glass, but not all of it. I don’t try to hide my small shriek of pain when I step on a piece, but the fact it stays in my foot doesn’t slow me down.

Not when the door’s so close.

There's a shout of surprise from the living room as I pass it, but I don’t let it stop me either.

And there it is. I can see sunlight through the glass of it. So close.

And I’m there and it’s unlocked and I’m out.

I can hear the birds, and see the trees, and the piece of glass comes out and the grass is so _green_. The sunlight is warm and it’s only been a few days at most but it feels like it’s been _weeks_ and _months_ and _years_.

I did it. I’m out. I have to stop for a moment and catch my breath, laugh a little, before I can keep going. I have to keep going but just one moment of celebration can’t hurt. _I did it_.

That’s when I’m tackled to the ground.

The grass is less soft when you’re face planting into it, the warm earth less forgiving. The sound I let out is inhuman. I thought he was dead or at least incapacitated; I thought I could run.

When I hear the voice I understand.

“I got her George!” Sapnap. Of all the people. He can’t know what’s going on, he can’t know what’s really happening.

“Sapnap, Sapnap, please just let me go, you don’t understand, I can explain this, just _please let me run_ \--”

George shouts and my hopes are crushed.

“Sapnap, you’d better come here! Dream...Dream needs help!”

I’ve twisted around to face him and I can see the confusion on his face, the dots as they connect. “What did you do?”

“Please just let me go Sapnap, I promise I’ll explain, I know how it looks but please--” I’m certain there are tears on my face now, I can feel them running off into the grass, I was _so close and they have to believe me they have to_.

“I…” he’s lost. Something bad has happened, he doesn’t know what. To a long time friend of his, and I’m running from the crime scene. “I don’t…”

“Sapnap! Get in here!” And he decides.

“You can explain when I see what the hell George is screaming about.”

And I start to cry harder, I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to, even as he pulls me up on unsteady feet, even as his hand locks around my wrist, a grip I can’t pull away from, because I hope that they’ll believe me but _I don’t know_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if I missed something. Kinda falling asleep as I'm skimming for grammar and what-have-you, so yeah I probably missed something. *wiggles fingers magically (you know what I mean)* or maybe it's all intentional.
> 
> That's what I love about writing. "Yeah, uh, you see, that comma in the middle of a word was actually meant to convey the complexity of the character's thoughts as they steal the orphan's presents, who feels stupid NOW huh?"
> 
> Also lilypad is one word because I say so. (Spellcheck doesn't seem to like that but who does spellcheck think they are anyways? It's not like they can tell that yes, I mean Sapnap, no not subpoenas for the love of god don't autocorrect to--fuck.)
> 
> Also thank y'all who comment when I see something in my inbox I click _so fast_ , faster than I click on Techno streams (jk that would be impossible but pretty fricken fast all the same). For real it makes my day. Sorry I'll stop talking now.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyyyyy, new chapter and it didn't even take a month.
> 
> Shit happens in this one.
> 
> Enjoy.

They don’t even give me a chance.

They shove me into some side room, lock the door, don’t let me out until he’s been healed and given his version of events.

Apparently I’m crazy.

Apparently I’m holding some kind of grudge, I ambushed him, tried to kill him for no real reason.

Apparently he’s volunteered to be _nice_ and take care of me while I come back to my senses.

I don’t even think to point out the obvious things. It happens too fast; when I need them, the words don’t come. If this was planned, why did I use glass? If I just showed up, why is the only thing I have to wear one of his sheets? I don’t think of these things until they’re long gone with promises to check back and make sure I haven’t killed him, and then I can’t stop thinking about them.

He doesn’t set up the guest room, like he tells them he would for me.

Of course he doesn’t.

I expect pain, when they leave. I expect pain in as many ways as he can give it to me. I expect to be unable to walk, unable to breathe without wishing I was dead.

I don’t expect the genuine look of disappointment, the sigh as he pulls me along from the room I’d been locked in to his own, still smelling faintly of blood under whatever they used to clean it up.

He leads me over to the bed and takes my sheet and I think I know what will happen next.

I don’t.

When he gets into the bed beside me, he just lies there. No motion in my direction, not so much as a glance.

“I was gonna give you clothes, y’know.”

Of all the things he could say, I think this is the one which would catch me most off guard.

“What?”

“Clothes. I was bringing them to you.” He sighs, a pathetic, stretched-out thing. “You’re not gonna kill me in my sleep, are you?”

“I make no promises.”

He laughs at that, actually laughs. “Well, try to avoid it if you can.” I suppress a laugh of my own, one which sneaks up on me, nearly slips out.

Why am I laughing?

Why am I almost exchanging polite banter with _him_?

Some hold over, perhaps, from a time when we were friends and this was normal?

He reaches over to turn out the light and I settle in under a new comforter, between a new set of sheets.

I can almost believe he’s sorry. But not really.

And even if he was, could I forgive him? Could I really?

For _that_?

~~~

By the time George and Sapnap return, I am more at rest. He has not touched me once in the intervening time, something I’ve taken careful note of. He doesn’t give me clothes till the morning of their arrival, but when he does, they’re comfortable, reasonable. Like something I would pick for myself.

That doesn’t mean I want to stay here.

No, I still want to get as far away as I can, but it’s no longer an urgent thing. No longer something I ache for in every waking moment. He’s given me books and food and even lets me out of his room sometimes, though never out of the house.

I still want the sun, but I can live with glowstone and lamps a bit longer.

I’ll have to be smart. I was too hasty last time, took too many chances.

His attitude has changed, too; he talks easily, but leaves me alone when I don’t feel like answering. He gives me space, but still keeps an eye on me. In some ways, locked in his room is my favorite place to be. It’s the only time he lets me truly out of sight.

But I don’t feel so desperate to be away from him any more.

He is my only company.

Most of the time I can push aside what he’s done to me. But most of the time, too, it sits in the back of my head and festers, aided by his voice.

Not all the time. Sometimes, when I’m reading, or drifting off into sleep, his tone turns honeyed and almost comforting.

It gets easier to accept that my stay will be a while. Easier by the day.

That scares me like nothing he’s done.

George and Sapnap find it easy to take his word for things again. Weeks have passed since they’ve last seen me, less since they’ve seen him. He leaves the house sometimes, leaves me locked away. I’ve “made progress”, could probably leave, but I enjoy it here with him, he says.

And I nod along and enjoy the opportunity to talk to someone other than him.

They wouldn’t believe me.

They didn’t before.

Still I can’t help but look at them with pain in my eyes whenever he leaves the room, hoping they’ll notice. They don’t, we eat and they leave and it’s just me and him again.

When he asks if I had fun I say I did.

Because I did.

~~~

I hope Tommy and Techno are doing alright. I hope they’ve forgotten me because I can’t see myself escaping any time soon, but I don’t mind staying for now. As long as it means no one risks themselves for me. I can wait a little longer.

~~~

It almost becomes normal. I am allowed throughout the entire house except when he’s gone. I know I couldn’t make it far anyways. He caught me once, he could again.

I don’t like to think about that. It makes it harder to accept that I’m stuck here for now.

Much easier to pretend this is by choice. As much as I can, anyways.

~~~

“Do you want to go outside?”

A month and a half. I’ve been inside for a month and a half.

Of course I want to go outside.

“If you promise not to run away I’ll take you out.”

“I promise.” It’s easy to promise. He’d catch me anyway.

And just because he hasn’t hurt me in weeks doesn’t mean he won’t.

And so he takes me out on a clear afternoon, when the breeze is warm and slow and the sun is hot and the shade is cool.

It’s heaven.

The urge to run is there, but I push it down, shove it away. I have to wait for my chance. I have to let him think I wouldn’t dare disobey.

That’s what I tell myself; it must be true. I have to wait until I’m certain I can run where he will never find me.

I don’t know how.

I just enjoy the sound of birds and leaves and water and follow him back in when he says it’s time.

~~~

“You were so good today. I think it’s time I give you a present.”

“You’ve given me dozens of presents.” He has. Books. Chocolates. Flowers. What’s so special about this one?

“I’ve been holding onto this one for awhile now. Got it ages ago, but after today it only seems right to give it to you.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. Ever the romantic.

“Fine, just let me finish this first.” We’re eating, and he’s done, but I’m still nibbling on my bread.

“Whatever you say, lilypad.” He walks off, and returns not much later, mask in hand.

I’m confused, but I don’t say anything.

I hurry to finish the food. His gifts may be cheesy but they’re thoughtful more often than not and always entertaining or simply nice. Chocolates, a book I mention I liked, a cup of tea on a bad day.

When I’m done he carries my plate to the sink and then stands in the doorway expectantly. He looks so at ease, slouched against the doorframe like that.

I could almost smile at the sight.

When I stand to follow him he turns, pulling on the pale mask as he does, walks down the hall toward our room. He stops, though, in front of the hall closet. Turns to me, gives me a smile just visible under the edge of the porcelain, waits for me to catch up.

When I do he pulls the door open and reaches behind some sheets to flip what I can only guess is a lever.

The back of the closet pulls open with the faint sound of pistons, and he steps through the opening.

This is new.

Not once have I seen him use it, this hidden door. Some of my anticipation is now worry; what good thing could he need a secret room for?

When I follow after him and see I actually collapse, my legs dropping away from under me. He turns just in time to keep me from hitting the floor.

Here, locked away in a part of the house I didn’t know existed, is _Tommy_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh heh heh. Suffer, my lovely characters, _suffer_ , I said. (Also yeah I know they're not actually my characters but within the context of this fic they do what I want so ha)
> 
> Feel like I should add some more tags (as though that isn't already a gigantic mess). There's some stuff coming up I'm not sure I properly marked. (But spoilers. (But tags.) But spoilerssssss (sorta). (But tags!) Eh.)
> 
> 'Bout to jinx myself but so far no real writer's block on this story, which is pretty nice and not usual for me. Just, again, not being willing to edit what I've already written. So....update sometime?
> 
> I always make these notes wayyy too long, don't I?
> 
> Annnnnnd *post*


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time, sorry, but still lots of plot progression so it balances I guess?

“What do you think?”

What do I _think_? I don’t know how long he’s been trapped here but Tommy looks terrible, wasted away. His clothes are in tatters, his hands and feet manacled. His hair is a matted mess, greasy and dusty. His face looks sunken, and when he opens his eyes at the noise, there is only a flicker of the spark they once held.

“Leah?” His voice comes out a croak, and I can’t tell if it’s from under or over use.

I look up at him. He’s touching me, holding on to me for the first time in weeks, keeping me from falling again. He looks worried about what I might say.

“Let him go.”

“I can’t do that, Leah, you know that.” I know.

“You can do whatever you damn well please, let him _go_.”

“Lilypad, I can’t--”

“Don’t fucking call me lilypad. How long has he been here? How long have you been keeping my friend locked away in one part of the house while trying to...to...I don’t know what in the rest? Charm me? Act innocent until I thought maybe some fraction of you was actually _sorry_?” He looks ashamed, hurt.

“He’s been here since the first week. I went back and got him. He can’t...he’s betrayed my trust, Leah, he’d kill me if he could.” Bargaining chips, I need bargaining chips…

“That I can understand!” I only have one.

The room is quiet.

“Leah…”

“I’ll tell you what, _Dream_ ,” the first time I’ve said it in weeks and it comes out like a curse, “either he goes or I do.” The use of his name seems to take him by surprise.

“You know you can’t go, Leah, you know--”

“I’ll stop trying.”

“...what?”

“You must realize that on some level, I never stop thinking about leaving? How can I when you’ve only just let me outside today? If...if you let him go, I’ll never try again, so long as you leave him and Techno and Phil and everyone else alone. You could leave the doors unlocked and the windows open and take me to parties and to visit friends and I’d never once try to get away.”

I can live with him, for this. He’s been kind enough. I can pretend until maybe I have for so long I don’t have to.

I can’t live with myself without offering.

My only bargaining chip. Becoming his little willing bird in an open cage I cannot leave.

Tommy speaks. “Leah, don’t do it, I’m sure Techno is on his way, you don’t have to--”

“You would swear? You would swear that you wouldn’t leave my side, wouldn’t disobey me?” He ignores Tommy.

“As long as you would swear to leave everyone alone.”

“What if they try to kill me?” A genuine question.

“If you can’t prove self defense I don’t want to hear it, I’m gone.” I don’t know if I can actually threaten that, but I do. It’s the only thing I have, I must be able to.

“As long as we’re clear.”

He’s still holding me. I’m not sure whether I’d fall or not if he let me go.

“Then you’ll let him go?” It’ll only cost me everything. But he...he seems softer, kinder, to me at least.

My cage at least will be gilded.

Tommy’s certainly isn’t.

“If you can prove you mean what you promise.”

Ah.

There’s a clear suggestion there.

Deep breath.

For Tommy.

“Of course.”

He smiles. It’s soft, deceivingly so.

“You wanna go…?” He gestures behind him to the exit. “I’ll be right behind you.”

And Tommy catches on.

“Wait...wait Leah, wait, don’t do this, it’s fine, I’m fine, I’ve made it this long I can’t ask you to do this--” I turn, look him in the eye. I have to say this, this one time, this one chance.

“This is my choice, Tommy.” It is. “I don’t want you to think this is your fault.” It isn’t. “And don’t come trying to save me or something stupid like that, I’ll...I’ll be fine.” I don’t believe the words coming out of my mouth and I know he can tell. “I’ll be fine.”

And with that I turn and leave before my mask truly slips.

I barely make it out before the first few tears start to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it suffering, or is it character development? Who's to say really?
> 
> I'll try to upload soon, might fuck around and do a double upload today even. It all depends on ~motivation~ (mostly if what I'm _supposed_ to be doing is more boring that proofreading.)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops my hand slipped, looks like it's a double upload day after all.
> 
> Heads up for moderately graphic content and technical coercive rape, oh boy, I don't know, I don't usually write shit like this so I can't write it well. Feel free to skip this chapter that's pretty much all that happens in it.
> 
> Obligatory I don't endorse this, this is messed up. But yay ~coping w/ buried trauma through fanfics~.

It takes a minute for him to follow me.

That’s all I have to get ready, to prepare myself. I have to prove it.

Prove it beyond a doubt.

The tears can wait.

There’s nothing to do really, I find, but turn on the lights and wait.

I leave most of them off.

I wish I could leave them all.

I sit on the edge of the bed. Wait.

It must be intentional, this delay. How long does it take to close a door, walk down a hall? I just want it to be over with.

For Tommy. For Techno. For everyone, everyone who’s helped me out, taken me in, treated me like one of their own.

I can do this, I just wish I could do this faster.

The moment the door swings open any sense of impatience disappears. Please, just a little longer.

No.

He walks towards me, a predator. Always a predator. And I’m always his prey. When he reaches me, he pulls me up into his arms, slips his mask further up his face, pulls me into a kiss with a gentle hand on the back of my head.

It’s passionate, the kiss; his tongue slips into my mouth and I let it be conquered. I let it happen.

He pulls away, just barely, lifts his mask off the rest of the way and tosses it somewhere to the side. “You don’t have to do this, you know. What did they do for you?” But I do, they did everything for me. And I will do everything for them.

So instead of answering, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back and try to pretend this is something I want.

Because there’s nothing I can do, really, except for that.

So I close my eyes and pretend.

His hands make their way under my shirt, ghost over my skin in a way that sends shivers down my spine. His touch is so very light, so very soft.

_Softer than last time._

The thought rises unbidden in my mind and I pull back for a second, recoil. His hands are caught in my shirt and then they’re not and my legs hit the bed and my throat is closing, it’s closing and I can’t _breathe. I can’t breathe._

He steps forward, brings a hand up to my cheek. “Hey, lilypad, hey, deep breaths. It’s okay, you don’t have to do this.”

I think of my friends, my _family_ , and my gasping for air slows. I’m breathing.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” I do want to, just not for the reasons he might hope.

And I do have to.

He’s noticed my breathing returning to normal. “You okay? You want to continue?” I nod.

“If you need to stop, just say…'' he pauses, thinking. “...necklace. Okay?”

There’s no fucking way that’s not intentional.

I won't use it anyway, I can’t, not without risking everything. But I nod again.

And he leans in for the kiss.

I’m still sitting on the edge of the bed, but he’s between my legs now, kneeling. He’s tall enough that his lips reach mine if I lean forward, and I am, I’m leaning into the kiss and trying to forget who he is and what we’re doing.

He starts to move down. His hands find the hem of my shirt, pull it up and over my head. My upper half is bare, no bra here. He never gave me one.

His lips work their way in a burning trail down my neck, pause to rest on my collar bone. I lean in still further to the feeling, trying to catch it, ride on it. Trying to keep away the uneasy feeling in my stomach that tries to overwhelm me. Trying to let it happen.

He moves down still more, giving attention to every last inch. It’s a trail of sparks, flecks and glimmers of white-hot feeling.

Grab onto it and leave the rest behind.

When he tugs away my pants and reaches his destination, I can’t help the groan that slips from my lips.

I do it. I let it all go.

His tongue works magic, and his fingers push me over the edge with the slightest of motions inside of me. He lets me rest for a moment, reclined on the bed, panting, as he removes his own clothing.

He’s so very careful in the way he lifts my legs up around my hips, in the way he nudges slowly into me as he leans down and catches my lips with his.

And he moves, so slowly at first, then with growing speed, rubbing against me in the best of ways, and my legs don’t need his help to stay there anymore. His free hands find better things to do, one playing across my chest and the other rubbing just there between my legs.

And it’s bliss.

The sounds streaming from my mouth in between kisses are almost inhuman, mumbles and groans I have no part in making. I’m climbing again, soaring, nearing the cliff.

He pulls his lips away from mine and whispers into my ear.

“ _Say my name, Leah_.”

I don’t say it, I shout it, I moan it out over and over and over again as I fall back off the cliff, and he falls too, his hips slow and stutter and still.

I’m tired, I’m exhausted, still struggling to catch my breath. He lifts me oh-so-gently, pulls me up against him, maneuvers us between the bedsheets not once slipping out.

I fall asleep that way, curled against his chest, legs entangled in his, still full of him.

I fall asleep in the paradox of his arms.

It’s undeniable now, unchangeable. I’ve given myself away, traded my life. This is the signing of the paperwork.

I am Dream’s.

And everyone else is free to do as they please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay safe out there y'all. Remember it's not a yes if you have to pressure them into it.
> 
> Do I hear a triple upload pog?

**Author's Note:**

> Idk when/if I'll update. Depends on the reaction and also, y'know, the rate at which civilization collapses. I sincerely apologize for inflicting this work upon the world. Have a wonderful life.
> 
> I'm just gonna drop this here. National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673


End file.
